Goodbye on Our Lips
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Dudley knows he has to go into hiding because of Harry's war, but that won't stop him from having a few last drinks with the boy he loves.


_Assignment 4, Muggle Culture task 2: Write about someone getting drunk_

 _Back to School: backpack_

 _Character Appreciation: sneaking an item away_

 _Lyric Alley: On the front lawn, sprinklers turned on_

 _Sophie's Shelf: DudleyPiers_

 _Slash September: Dudley_

 _Word Count: 730_

* * *

It's easy enough to slip the bottle into his backpack. Dudley has been doing this for years, and he sometimes thinks he's gotten it down to an art. His parents never notice. Part of him wonders if they would care. They've always kept him on this pedestal, like he can do no wrong.

If only they knew.

He doesn't tell anyone goodbye. As far as his parents know, he is in his room, packing, getting ready for this big mystery that dangles over their heads—a painful reminder that they are in danger, that it's only a matter of time before they have to flee. His parents would try to talk him out of going out, so he keeps it a secret as he slings the backpack over his shoulder.

The world is a dangerous place. If what Harry says is true—and Dudley believes it is because the memory of hooded figures and the coldness they had left behind is still too fresh in his mind—there is a war going on. It doesn't matter that he is not part of this war; Dudley and his family are still in danger. Dudley deserves one last drink with Piers.

Careful not to make too much noise, he slips out the door and hurries off into the night.

…

Piers is sprawled out lazily on the lawn, a cigarette dangling between his lips. When he sees Dudley, he sits up, stretching out his long, thin legs. "You do know it's nine at night, right?" he asks, pulling the cigarette away and scraping his nail over the filter, causing the white-grey ash to drift to the ground.

Dudley shrugs. "You still answered my call."

Piers considers this in silence, almost pensive as he takes another drag from the cigarette. "Fair," he says. "So? What's so urgent?"

"I didn't want to drink alone."

It isn't his best line, but Dudley still doesn't know how to talk to Piers. It doesn't matter that they've been dating for a year now; there's still part of Dudley that believes men don't talk about feelings. It doesn't matter. Somehow, Piers still understands, still loves him.

"What have you got, then?" Piers' dark eyes sparkle eagerly in the moonlight as he watches Dudley unzip his backpack.

"Nothing special," he says, pulling out the half-empty bottle of scotch. "It's not even the good stuff."

That doesn't mean anything, of course. Dudley still remembers being thirteen and drinking some disgusting, warm, cheap beer that had tasted like rubber. At the end of the day, alcohol is alcohol, and it's a quick way to kill his anxiety.

"Cheers," Piers says as Dudley presses the bottle to his lips and takes a deep drink.

…

"Gonna…" Dudley groans, his head feeling wobbly. "Gonna miss you."

"Where you going?" Piers asks, his dark eyes glassy from the alcohol.

But Dudley can't seem to answer. His tongue suddenly feels too thick, and all he can do is laugh. Still grinning, he falls back, laying on the grass with his eyes fixed upon the stars overhead.

"I love you," he murmurs, but his words are slurred, and it probably sounds like nonsense.

Piers lays back, his head resting on Dudley's chest. Dudley feels tears in his eyes but he blinks them away, too proud to give in and show emotion.

It isn't fair that he has to give Piers up, that he has to leave everything behind just because of Harry. Dudley wants to stay like this forever and never let go.

If only life could be that simple.

…

His head pounds, and it takes several moments to understand why he is suddenly wet. Piers groans and sits up, raising a skinny arm to protect him from the sprinkler's merciless splattering of water.

"Oh, fuck off, Max," Piers grumbles. "Bastard has it set on a timer."

Dudley checks his watch. Five in the morning. He wonders if his parents have noticed his absence, or there will be hell to pay when he gets home.

"I should go." His hand trembles as he grabs the empty bottle and stashes it away again.

"I wish you wouldn't."

Dudley's lips quirk into a smile. "I know."

He pulls Piers close, kissing him. He wonders if Piers can taste the goodbye on his tongue.

"I love you," Piers says.

Dudley nods. "I love you too."

He wishes things could be different.


End file.
